


a pound of flesh

by nickofhearts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M, Noctis is Christian Bale a la American Psycho, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9811472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickofhearts/pseuds/nickofhearts
Summary: Prompto's so sweet, a bright ray of sunshine on the coldest day of winter. He thinks theworldof you, that you can do no wrong.You think of breaking his arms, one bone at a time.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamingcicadas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingcicadas/gifts).



Prompto's so sweet, a bright ray of sunshine on the coldest day of winter. He thinks the _world_ of you, that you can do no wrong.

You think of breaking his arms, one bone at a time.

-

It's inevitable, really. Prompto's been looking at you like you hung the moon since he got up the courage to approach you in high school, and you were either going to have to fuck him or kill him sooner or later. Perhaps both, you think, watching the way he jumps to any request you make of him, _anything_ to please you, and not even because you're the prince. 

He's so _desperate_ for your attention, and you're happy to give it to him.

"Wanna come fishing with me this weekend?" you ask, nonchalant as you're heading back from class.

"Again, Noct?" he whines, but you know how eager he is to be by your side, to have your attention all for his own.

"We can stop by some scenic outlooks on the way, take some pictures...?" as if his participation wasn't already assured just by you extending the invitation.

"Yes!" he cheers, throwing an arm over your shoulders. 

_Yes,_ you think. The weekend's looking to be _most_ fun.

-

You actually do fish for most of the day, Prompto kicking his feet up as he alternates between watching you reel the line in and playing King's Knight on his phone. You'd let him try it once a few years back, but you'd both agreed that fishing wasn't his strong point as he'd gotten dragged almost immediately _into_ the lake instead of getting any fish out of it. 

"Nooooct," he wheedles, his stomach audibly grumbling. 

You pretend not to notice, casting the line out again. You laugh when he bumps you with a shoulder, the way he waits to be sure you haven't got anything on the hook when he does it.

"Alright alright, c'mon then."

You had the room prepared special, and Prompto's gasp of disbelief when you walk through the door makes you want to laugh again. He's so fucking _easy,_ you hardly even have to try. 

"Did—were you—" he's staring agog at the rose petals littered on the ground, the candlelit dinner.

"I can't do something special for my _best_ friend?" you ask him, watching his face flush, the colour spreading quickly down his neck.

This isn't something you do for a _friend,_ but Prompto seems too overwhelmed to protest it, flopping himself down at the table, letting you pour him a glass of wine. You pick raw oysters out of the bucket, sucking them between your teeth with perhaps a bit more panache than you might have otherwise, giving him a sly glance between each one. 

Prompto's so red you wonder if he's going to be the first ever case of spontaneous human combustion.

-

"That was—nice?" Prompto says, looking at a loss. Adorable, unassuming, Prompto. You almost feel bad for him. "What's for dessert?" he asks, knowing that's always been your favourite part of a meal. He's not wrong.

"I was thinking of something _else_ for dessert," you tell him, trailing your gaze slowly down.

Prompto's red again, but he goes with it when you move in to kiss him, when you catch his fingers in yours, when you're backing him onto the bed to strip his clothing off piece by piece. It's like every sweet romance you've ever seen in the movies, nothing more natural than Prompto opening up for it when you kiss him, spreading his legs for you at a touch on his thigh. It's nice, but so boring that you're thinking about ten other things as you fuck him. The only thing that gets you off is the anticipation of what comes after.

You _are_ going to miss him, but the thing about boys next door is that there's another one just around the corner.

-

"Noct?" Prompto asks when a knife flashes into your hand, as if he's wondering if this is just another part of the game, not quite aware enough to be afraid yet. It _is,_ but not in the way he thinks.

"Don't worry," you tell him, running the blade lightly over his throat, preparing for the cut. "You got to fuck me, so your life was _worth something_."


End file.
